


Conlon Habit

by Katybug1992



Series: Tumblr Prompts [103]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Jack is an asshole in this and I apologize, M/M, other newsies only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 00:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19896781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katybug1992/pseuds/Katybug1992
Summary: Manhattan was at war with Brooklyn and it was all Jack and David’s fault.





	Conlon Habit

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a quote from Gossip Girl.

Manhattan was at war with Brooklyn and it was all Jack and David’s fault. When the two of them had gotten back to the Lodging House that night, Jack had forbade everyone from crossing the bridge - especially Race.

“You’re not just my second, you’re my best asset!” Jack fired back at him when the blond objected loudly.

“If I’m your second, why didn’t you talk to me?!” Racer had fired back.

Before it could escalate, Crutchie and Albert intervened, Crutchie pushing Jack up to the Penthouse and Albert ushering Racer to the bunk they had shared for years.

It had been dragging on for several weeks, more of a cold war than a hot war. All it needed was one spark, and that spark was Racer.

One of the newer boys had reported back to Jack that he had heard from one of the Queens boys that Racer and Conlon were seen together in Queens.

“What were they doing?” Jack growled.

“Kissing.” the boy squeaked out, “And talking.”

Jack turned on heel and stalked toward where Racer had taken up selling. If he was too blind to realize what Spot was doing, that Spot was trying to steal him away from Manhattan, then he was going to tell him. Racer was his ultimate weapon. He was his best fighter, he had a way with people and words, and - most importantly - was Spot Conlon’s weak spot. If this continued to drag on, he could use that he controlled Racer to bring Spot to heel. He hoped it didn’t get that far, but the meetings he had had with the other leader weren’t going the way he wanted them to go.

“Tony!” Jack called, Racer’s attention snapping to him more because of his tone than the use of his given name.

“Jack.” Race replied, gearing up for a fight.

“Why were you so late getting back last night?” Jack glared, “As my second, you should be setting an example for the others, especially when it comes to the curfew.”

“I was making sure the little ones had made it back.” Race replied, starting to walk away.

Jack’s hand shot out and grabbed his upper arm as he walked past, yanking him back and tightening his grip.

“Hey,” Race snapped, trying to pull his arm away, “let go of me, Jack.”

“Drop your Conlon habit first.” Jack replied, eyes hard.

“You know I already have.” Race glared back just as hard.

“Really?” Jack’s laugh was cold, “A kiss does sort of send the wrong signal.”

Racer froze for a moment before renewing his struggle to get free, “Speaking of Spot, if you leave a bruise, I won’t be able to protect you from his wrath.”

“I don’t give a fuck about Spot Conlon.” Jack spat back, “I want to know why my second in command is disobeying my direct orders.”

“Because you tore me from my life!” Race shot back, “If I had been with you when you went to see Spot, I can guarantee this would not have happened. But you took David. That sends a message to everyone that you’re already planning to replace me, so why should I listen to you. I have a home back in Brooklyn whenever I want to go back.”

“Fine.” Jack released Race with a shove, “go back. And don’t come crying to me when he fucks you over. I don’t want to see you on this side of the bridge again.”

“Fine.” Race glared, shoving his last paper at Jack and heading out.

He held everything in until he got to the Brooklyn Lodging House.

“It’s Race!” one of the younger kids cried excitedly when he was let inside.

Racer tried to smile but he knew it didn’t come out when Bonfire directed him up to Spot’s room.

When he got to the doorway, he noticed Blue, Spot’s second, was in the room, wrapping up their daily meeting.

“Racer, what’s wrong?” Blue asked, spotting Race first.

“Jack kicked me out.” Race replied, eyes on the ground.

Spot was on his feet in an instant, ready to charge across the bridge to give Jack a piece of his mind when Race stopped him, “Not tonight, please.”

Spot had known Race for a long time and never once had he heard him sound that defeated. Sighing, he agreed, “Fine. You’ll share my room. And this shirt won’t do, but we’ll figure it out in the morning. You’re Brooklyn now.”

“I was always at least half Brooklyn.” Race tried to smile.

“You were always full Brooklyn,” Blue amended, “you just wouldn’t admit it.”

“Come on, let’s get you some sleep.” Spot gently guided Race to the bed, “You look exhausted.”

Not thinking anything of it, Race took off his shirt like he did every night before bed, but this time two growls resulted from the action. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath first, he looked at the place Jack had grabbed him by, seeing the dark hand-shaped bruise there.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Spot growled, running his fingers gently over the bruise.

“Please leave it.” Race pleaded, Manhattan may no longer be his home, but those were still his boys that would be affected by an escalation.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” Spot replied, nodding a goodnight to Blue and bundling Racer up in the blanket, determined to make Racer feel as safe as possible. That was his top priority at the moment. Tomorrow he would deal with Kelly.


End file.
